


Funhouse

by Raysine



Series: Songs of Suffering [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creep William Afton | Dave Miller, F/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rotting yellow bunny, Scott Cawthon and Phone Guy are not the same person, Triggers, William Afton and Dave Miller and Purple Guy are the Same Person, more tags to come, not animatronic smut i promise, plenty of angst, probably gonna be smut at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raysine/pseuds/Raysine
Summary: "You. Will. Fear. Me!" She didn't look at him, her gaze cast down to the lighter in her hand. On. Off. The flame illuminated her fingers and the back of her hand. It taunted her. It urged her to do the one thing she's wanted to do for years... to put an end to this."Sorry, but..." She dug a cigarette from her shirt pocket—the same ones William used to smoke—and put the butt to her lips. She inhaled the smoke. It was a feeling that, oddly enough, no longer bothered her when, before, it would send her into coughing fits. "I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore."--Title subject to change. Sequel to Part 1 "Songs of Suffering"
Relationships: Phone Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Original Female Character(s), Springtrap (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Original Female Character(s), William Afton | Dave Miller/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Songs of Suffering [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938346
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's Part 2 ya'll! I had to just get it done and I'm so happy I did. I feel productive

~July, 2001~

Scott was out late tonight.

It wasn’t the first time he wasn’t back even after their family finished dinner. He was a working man, but he also had side obligations.

One would think that being a tech guy would be more lax than being a private investigator, and yet Gemma found that oftentimes, she spent more time at home than Scott did. It wasn’t all bad though. It wasn’t like she didn’t get to see Scott at all.

It was just her and Charlie tonight. She would be turning eight soon—within the next couple of weeks, in fact—and Charlie had made it known early on she wanted a Monsters Inc. themed birthday party.

Some days, Gemma wished Freddy’s was still open. The days of cheap parties, cheap pizza and cheap cake and endless entertainment was over. If Gemma had the money to put towards one of the old locations, she would.

The kitchen was one of Gemma’s favorite rooms—brightly colored with whites and yellows, and all of Charlie’s art pieces hung onto the doors of the fridge. There were old forms, invitations, cards, and letters hung onto the fridge for safe keeping, as well as some of her and Scott’s older photos together.

Gemma’s phone buzzed against her leg as she stepped into the kitchen. She reached into the pocket of her night pants, and she couldn’t help but smile at the name on the screen.

**Mr. Perfect: how is mrs evergreen 2nite?**

**Me: wonderful mr evergreen thanks for asking <3 **

She couldn’t believe that, soon, it would be seven years since they got married. Time really does fly, especially when you’re having fun.

**Mr. Perfect: sorry i didnt make it home 2nite**

**Mr. Perfect: me and nate will be done soon**

**Me: its ok dinner is in the fridge when you get back**

**Mr. Perfect: awe 4 me? <3**

**Me: how is lefty coming along?**

**Me: its been a long time**

**Mr. Perfect: ya we had to scrape him a few times**

**Mr. Perfect: sumtimes it wuldnt work rite or we misred the bluprints**

**Mr. Perfect: its going gr8 so it wont be much longer**

**Me: ok get back to work n ill see u when u get home**

**Mr. Perfect: ily <3**

**Me: ily2**

Gemma Evergreen… she didn’t think she would ever get tired of hearing it. She felt like a pre-teen again, writing her name with the last name of her crush in all of her school notebooks, and surrounded with big, inked hearts.

Who thought that same dorky guy she met at the Prize Corner that one day would turn out to be her husband and not just some crush?

It was late, and the house dimly lit. Gemma often preferred the low-lightning nowadays—it was much gentler on her eyes.

As she leaned over the sink, the floorboards over her creaked with steady, slow steps. Charlie’s room was right above the kitchen, and the house was old—creaking floors came with age and she knew Charlie was simply trying to sneak around her bedroom when she should be in bed, as all children do.

Gemma had a habit of doing the same when she and Nathan were children. The things they got into as kids…

Gemma hung the dishes to dry on the rack over the sink and dried off her hands on her pants.

One less chore down.

The floorboards creaked again, this time with heavy steps, as if Charlie were trying to get her attention. But they didn’t sound like the footsteps of an eight-year-old girl. Had Charlie found a pair of Scott’s shoes again?

It wouldn’t hurt to check up on Charlie… maybe scare her a little, let her know mom was always watching.

Gemma slipped off her house shoes by the staircase. Normally the staircase groaned at the slightest amount of pressure, but Gemma was trained—Gemma was stealthy. After living in the same house for several years, she paid attention and learned exactly where the floors creaked and where they didn’t. And so Gemma ascended the stairs noiselessly, and across the hallway to her daughter’s bedroom.

Gemma pressed her ear to the door.

She could hear the faint sound of footsteps on the other side. Shuffling papers. Snoring—Charlie’s snoring.

Gemma’s ears rang and her sweaty palms gripped the knob on the door.

What if there was an intruder in her daughter’s bedroom? What if it was one of the kids and she was overreacting? Charlie talked about how they played with her often. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to say that the visited her well into the night, much like tonight. Nothing for her to worry about, right?

Gemma burst through the door and flicked the light on onto her daughter, soundly sleeping on her bed, with her hand outstretched and Fredbear on the floor, face down.

And the room empty. No other person in the room but her and Charlie. Not even an open window.

They could only open from the inside, anyway.

It was just one of the kids, then. No big deal. Gemma’s shoulders fell with relief and she sighed.

Thankfully, Charlie was a heavy sleeper, like Scott—her mouth hung wide open and her long, black hair scattered about her pillow. She could sleep through entire storms if they let her. Gemma tucked the discarded Fredbear back into bed with Charlie, who didn’t so much as shift or even twitch. She may as well have been deadweight.

As Gemma turned to exit the room, her bare foot brushed against a lone, white piece of paper on the floor, and when she looked down, she could see the lines of a drawing, drawn in crayon—a drawing she was sure Charlie had yet to show her.

Gemma lifted her foot off of the paper and bent down to pick it up—

A drawing of a yellow bunny, the words “D A D D Y” written underneath with a yellow crayon.

Gemma ripped the drawing for the floor and balled it up in her fists. How fucking dare he? How dare he reveal himself to her daughter?

If she could, Gemma would have taken her memories of William to the grave with her, and yet it seemed that was never an option.

Peace was never an option.

“I’m telling you Scott, when I got to her room, she had drawn that fucking Spring Bonnie suit that he died in.”

“Okay so he’s in our home—but what is he going to do? Calm down, babe. I don’t think he’ll hurt her.”

“He murdered children.”

“Look, I—” Scott sighed. “I know, but is there anything wrong with Charlie? Has she been… acting different?”

“N-no…”

“Then she’s probably not worried about it. Kids have like, a weird sixth sense for that shit. Just keep an eye out, but don’t worry yourself sick over it.”

“Fuck, I—” Gemma pinched the bridge of her nose, and she let out a deep sigh. “Yeah…. Yeah, alright.”

“I’ll be—h…be s…oo…o…ay?”

“Scott?”

“I…. the…. od… I ha…. g….”

“Scott—”

“I…. ov…. u…”

The call dropped, and Gemma ripped the phone from her ear with frustration. “God fucking dammit.”

Oh well, at least Scott would be back soon.

The drawing laid on the coffee table, wrinkled and staring her in the face, mocking her, and all she could do was stare. Her foot tapped anxiously against the floor.

What was she supposed to do about this? The last thing she wanted was William in her home. But how many options did she have? Henry and Scott didn’t want her involved in whatever it was they were doing.

No. She would take care of this herself, with or without their help.

Maybe it was time to head to bed herself. She and Scott could talk when he got back. It would be a while.

. . .

_When Gemma opened her eyes again, she found herself back at her and William’s shared house—the house they abandoned, as if it had never been left to rot in the first place. She stood in the middle of the living room—shoes placed neatly by the door and William’s jacket hung up on the coat rack. The clock they kept on the wall, though, was still, as if time had simply… stopped._

_“William?” She called for him, only for silence to linger in the air._

_Well, this was officially the creepiest dream she’s ever had so far. Not the scariest, but the creepiest._

_She ascended the staircase slowly, one after another until she reached the balcony overlooking the ground floor. The door to her left would lead to the nursery—Charlie’s planned bedroom. To the right, their shared bedroom. The bedroom door was left ajar, and she pushed it open._

_William sat on their bed, his back facing her. She couldn’t see his face, but he was hunched over, and she could see the wisps of smoke that came from the cigarette between his fingers. But he held something else in his hands—_

_“Hello, Love,” He said gruffly, flicking the ashes onto the carpet floor. “It’s been a while.” He looked back, holding his cigarette out for her to take._

_She moved around the bed to sit next to him. She took the cigarette from his fingers and brought it up to her lips._

_“You used to hate it when I smoked,” William commented, “Wanted to stop just so I wouldn’t have to deal with your coughing fits anymore.”_

_“Such a gentleman.”_

_“Unfortunately… quitting is much easier said than done.” He glanced back down. “Charlie drew this for me.”_

_It was the drawing she picked up and crumbled up earlier. The word “daddy” written across in big, yellow letters made her inwardly cringe._

_“She’s beautiful,” He muttered, “she looks just like you.”_

_“The hair is all yours, though.”_

_He chuckled. “Yes, it certainly is.”_

_Silence fell between them; she passed the cigarette back to him._

_“So why are you visiting her? Telling her you’re her dad?”_

_“I might not be the best man, Gemma—”_

_“That is a massive understatement.”_

_“—but I did want a family, more than anything.”_

_“Hmph.”_

_“My other children… poor Elizabeth is too far gone, but… Cassidy… Michael… they despise me.”_

_“So you tried to force a family on me.”_

_“You were… a means to an end.”_

_For some reason, hearing that actually hurt. To know she wasn’t individually valued or loved—simply a thing for him to use to achieve what he wanted._

_“But…” He continued, “I did come to love you. In my own way.” He finally turned to face her; his hand came up to rest against her cheek, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “And now look at you. You’ve matured into a beautiful woman. Almost makes me want to steal you away from him all over again.”_

_Gemma quickly brushed his hand away from her, pushing it back with a hard glare. “Well stop it. You dug your grave.”_

_“She deserves to know who her father is.”_

_“Her father is Scott. As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing.”_

_William went quiet. He dropped the cigarette onto the carpet, and stomped it out under his foot. He stood up and he leaned over her, jaw clenched and eyes wide with anger. “That boy is not her father.”_

_“He’s more of a father than you could have ever been.”_

_“When did you get so brave, my dear?” He uttered, “so stupid, yet so brave.”_

_“I would say it’s thanks to you, but I don’t want to give you the credit.”_

_William hummed. “We all know you still love me, Gemma.”_

_“Hardly.”_

_He hooked his fingers around the thick, black string on her neck. “You wear this every day. I’d say that’s proof enough. And where is the ring he gave you?”_

_William was always the best at reading people. She once compared him to a Bloodhound, able to sniff out her emotions from miles away—fear, in particular._

_And they had spent so long together under the façade of husband and wife. At one point, he knew her better than anyone._

_She was lying to herself when she said she didn’t love him, and he knew that, but it wasn’t genuine love; it was fake—reminding herself of all the wonderful things he had done for her, and the wonderful way he treated her, at least on most days._

_But he was also abusive. He was a rapist, a murderer. She wouldn’t forgive him for that._

_She would keep lying to herself until she finally believed it._

_“If you knew **anything** , you would know I don’t like to wear it to work. I care too much about it to want to lose it on the job.” _

_“You’re treading on some thin ice here, Love. I’d be careful of the words you choose.”_

_“What are you going to do, Afton? Hit me?”_

_He narrowed his eyes. “Gemma—"_

_“Go on then.” She stood up quickly—he was still a bit taller than her, but she wouldn’t let him look down on her. “Do it. Prove to me that you’re the abusive piece of shit I know you are—” He struck her. It sent her head spinning as she fell onto the bed; William didn’t give her a chance to recover, grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her body back up._

_“Only since you asked so nicely,” He said sarcastically, “I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing, Love, else I would have complied sooner.”_

_Gemma whimpered, clutching his wrists as he pulled against her scalp. She was stronger than this. She could fight back. “You’re just proving to me why I could never trust you.”_

_“Hm, that’s quite alright. After all, I have nothing to lose here. I’d just kill you if I could. Kill little Charlie too. I’d have my family to myself again. Doesn’t sound too bad… if I kill Charlie, perhaps you would do the work of killing yourself for me.”_

_Gemma grit her teeth. “You won’t fucking touch her."_

_“Oh, I won’t? Try to stop me, then.” He pulled her up off the bed by the back of her hair, with her back facing him. “Let’s see if you can get to her in time. It starts now.”_

_When she felt his hand let go of her hair, Gemma turned around to swing at him, only for her fist to collide with nothing—nothing but air._

_He was gone._

_“Mommy!” Gemma could hear Charlie cry out, sounding so close yet so far—how did she wake up? How was she supposed to save Charlie?_

_“Mommy help me!” Charlie’s choked out cries, and Gemma’s hands shook as she brought her hands up to her head._

_“Wake up,” she told herself, as if she could will herself to wake from this nightmare, “wake up, wake up, **wake up!** ” _

“Mommy!”

Gemma woke on her living room couch, her body drenched in sweat.

A shrill cry came from Charlie’s room up the stairs, and Gemma shot up from the couch in alarm. “Charlie, I’m coming!”

“Mommy-!

Gemma reached the bedroom door, it was shut, unlike how she left it before. She always left Charlie’s door cracked open. She jiggled the doorknob—tugged and twisted it but it didn’t give way. It was locked.

Time to kick it down, then.

She took a step back from the door. Hearing Charlie crying her heart out on the other side was painful to listen to, but she needed to be careful about how she did this—she didn’t need to break her leg.

The weakest part of the door was just under the knob.

She drove the heel of her right foot into the floor and pressed her left up against the floor, just under the knob with her knee ever so slightly bent.

“Alright, on the count of three.” She breathed out. “One… two… three—”

The door didn’t budge.

“One… two… three.”

Finally, the door gave way with a well-aimed kick, slamming into the wall behind it. Charlie lied in her bed, thrashing and pulling at the bed sheets, but her eyes were closed, as if she were having a nightmare.

“Mom—mommy!”

Gemma came to her side—Charlie’s hands latched onto the sheets but Gemma pulled her close. “I’m here, Mommy’s here.”

Charlie’s screams and cries finally began to die down into soft whimpers, and when her death grip of the sheets let go, Gemma grabbed onto her hands, icy to the touch. “Mommy—”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I—” Charlie sniffled. “I saw you die.”

Gemma was silent for a moment. She pet her daughter’s hair with a clenched jaw.

Was William not actually going to kill Charlie? Just scaring her?

That was so like him, though. She should have known better.

She could practically feel his laughter—laughing at her. Fuck, she hated him.

“It was just a dream,” Gemma said, “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

Gemma met Charlie’s eyes—they looked just the same, with Charlie a near clone of Gemma, save for William’s hair and a similar nose.

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

. . .

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“He knew I was talking about him. He came to me and threatened Charlie. He—he was just trying to get to me, but—”

Scott dropped his head in his hands and shook his head.

“I—I don’t know what to do, Scott. I… I can’t deal with this.”

_No… you’ve had to deal with worse. You can deal with this._

Gemma turned away from him, wrapping her arms around her body.

“Gemma, what do you want me to do? I’m already doing what I can!”

“I don’t know, can we maybe work faster?”

“Do you know how much money it costs to buy and build an entire building? Much less decorate it and make it look authentic?”

“I…I—”

“I don’t want this either, but for now, we’ll just have to live with it.” Scott came up behind her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

Gemma’s body tensed and panic shot through her body. ”Don’t touch me!” She instinctively turned around, and her hand struck across Scott’s face.

Scott brought a hand up to his face and Gemma took a step forward, in shock. “Well, if I were William, that would have been a pretty good hit.”

“Shit, Scott—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey,” Scott took hold of her hands, his thumbs rubbing against the backs of her hands. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re working yourself up too much. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. Maybe… maybe you should go back to therapy. Just while we get this figured out.”

Gemma bit her lip. She wanted to listen to Scott. Maybe therapy could be good for her, but… getting rid of William would be so, so much better.

She’s served vengeance once. She could do it again. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“Hey, Gemma…”

“Hm?”

When she looked up, Scott’s hands found the underside of her jaw and pulled her in for a kiss; she felt her eyes fluttering closed and stepping in closer to press their bodies close together, her hands gripping the front of his shirt.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Scott said softly, callused thumbs caressing the sides of her face. “And it will all end before too long.”

“You’re right.”

Scott wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight to his body. It was a feeling of security she hasn’t felt for a while. “How’s your work schedule tomorrow?”

“I’m actually free tomorrow, as far as I know.”

“Ah—the life of a private investigator. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Gemma chuckled. “For the most part. I’m doing what I love.”

“So, Mrs. Evergreen, tomorrow is Friday night. Why don’t we take Charlie to stay with Vanny, and we—” He leaned down, peppering kisses across her face. Gemma giggled, fighting against him only for him to pull her in tighter, closer. “Can have a date night tomorrow? We can go out to eat, see a movie… take your mind off of things for a while.”

“Hm… where are you thinking?”

“I’m feeling Mexican.”

“Ooh, Mexican does sound good.”

“Seems we’ve come to a decision. Tomorrow at 7PM, the cheap Mexican place in town.”

“Cheap? Even better. And movie?”

“We can decide when we get to the theater.”

“We gonna sneak in drinks and snacks?”

“Uh, duh?”

Gemma’s smile fell slowly. “But… are you sure it’s okay to leave Charlie with Sarah and Marcus? What if William bothers her again?”

“If she has any issues, Sarah knows to call us. It will be fine.”

“What if—”

“And if she has an asthma attack, they have spare inhalers for her to use. Babe, there’s nothing for you to worry about. Charlie will be fine. You even said he was just trying to get to you.”

“But—”

“Sh. No buts. Look, I know you’re a worried mama, but she’s safe with Sarah and Marcus.”

Finally, she complied. She sighed, lying her head against Scott’s chest. “Alright.”

After tomorrow, though… she was going to start looking for ways to put an end to William. Hell, she might even go see Michael. If anyone would be willing to work with her, it was Michael.

She could agree with Scott on one thing. It would end, very soon. She knew Henry and Scott wouldn’t like it, but this was her fight. It was just as much her fight as it was Henry’s, and she was determined to end it.

After all, she did promise the children their end, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big oof  
> please let me know if I've made spelling errors  
> comments are appreciated :')
> 
> Edit: btw I don't speak Spanish like at all, so if I get it wrong at any point feel free to correct me??

_“Beep beep beep!” “Beep beep beep!” “Beep beep beep—"_

Gemma stirred awake with a moan—a long, dreamless night, thankfully. After that night with William, she wasn’t sure what to expect anymore.

She hated phones, though. She hated how much easier it’s gotten to contact others, or find them.

She still sometimes worried it was her mother calling for her; it had been years since she had seen her mom, or even heard a word from her.

It had been fifteen years since they last saw each other, and Gemma didn’t plan on getting back into contact with her any time soon.

Groggily, Gemma swung her arm across the bed to reach blindly for her phone by her bedside. The clock on the front read “6:15 AM”.

 _Goddammit_.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Gemma Evergreen?”

She was met by a deeper voice on the other end—it sounded familiar, but it was a voice she couldn’t put her finger on. Gemma sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand.

A still sleeping Scott rolled over, cuddling up to her legs.

“This is she.”

“This is Major Gordon from the HPD. We have a Daniel McKillop here requesting your presence.”

That explained where she knew the voice from. She wasn’t necessarily close with Gordon, nor did she work closely with him, but she saw him every now and again.

He was quite the dominating presence though, with a strong, muscular build and a short, scruffy beard. He was quite the hit with women his age—women in their early-to-mid forties who were growing bored and tired of vanilla sex with their equally boring husbands—and she could see why. He was strong-looking and attractive, not that she was particularly interested.

“Fuck. Do you know what he wants?”

“Remember that old restaurant chain from the early to mid-eighties? What was it—”

“Freddy’s?

“Yes, that’s it. He wants you to look into that Fazbear’s Fright place that’s opening soon. It’s a horror attraction.”

Fazbear’s Fright… this was the first she was hearing of it. Smart move to use its dark history for profit, though.

She could use this as her excuse to get involved without Henry and Scott desperately trying to keep her out of it. She could understand their reason—they were trying to keep her safe from further trauma. From possibly even getting herself killed or worse, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

She has years of police training under her belt, and plenty of combat experience.

And if nothing else? She would carry her gun at all times.

“Alright, I’ll be in there soon.”

When she hung up her phone, Scott wrapped his arms around her thigh. “Where are you going?”

“I’m heading to the station. Apparently, someone has a new case for me to work on.”

“Today?” Scott whined, “we were supposed to have our date tonight. What even is it?”

“I’ll tell you later. I won’t start tonight, so I won’t let it keep me out all night. I’ll be back before you have to go to work.”

“Alright. I love you.”

Gemma smiled, pulling her leg out from Scott’s arms as she stood off the bed. “I love you too. Go back to sleep, you look tired.”

Scott rolled over on his side, facing away from her, and Gemma quietly opened the drawer at her bedside and grabbed the Glock 22 she kept inside.

Just in case.

. . .

The station was always slow. Hurricane was a small town, after all. Not a lot happened in a small town.

But that also meant fewer resources. When something big did happen, it wasn’t guaranteed that anything would be done about it.

Case in point, the murdered children, as well as her case.

“Evergreen!”

Gemma drew her attention to the office closest to the main doors, where Gordon himself stood in the open door. He nodded his head to his right. “He’s in your office.”

“Alright, thanks, Gordon.”

She could feel Gordon’s eyes on her back as she walked by to her office; as an eighteen-year-old girl, maybe she would have become afraid—shuffled away and had a panic attack in the break room.

But as a thirty-two-year-old woman, she didn’t pay it any mind.

A man sat in her office—the greasy-looking comb-over was reminiscent of William’s hair; the way he seemed to apply way too much product to slick it back, although perhaps it had to do with the thinning of his hair.

This man was fat, though—a fat man, with olive skin and a brown striped suit, and a pair of thin, metal frames sitting atop a short, pig-like nose. He also had a thick walrus mustache, covering just the top of his lips.

“Mr. McKillop?”

His eyes were on her as soon as she shut the door behind her. He was confident and it practically radiated off of him, dripping from his pores like a greasy pizza—yet, he eyed the gun on her hip, as if any second she was going to put it in her hand and up to his head.

“Uh—y-yes, that’s me.”

There was little she planned to use her gun for, though, and he wasn’t one of them.

Unless, of course, he decided to prove her mother’s delusions true, just like William did. In that case, she wouldn’t hesitate.

She sat on the other side of her desk and his face visibly relaxed.

“I’m short on time, so tell me more about this case you want me to look into. Fazbear’s Fright, was it?”

McKillop huffed; he reached into his suit and pulled out a local newspaper. It was even dated for that day—July, 31st, 2001.

Newspapers weren’t much a necessity for her household. They did have a computer, after all, and local news typically wasn’t too interesting.

“It’s a horror attraction,” the man said, throwing the newspaper onto her desk.

_“Fazbear’s Fright: The Horror Attraction! Local amusement park is getting ready to scare your socks off with a new attraction based on the unsolved mysteries of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. Featuring actual relics from the decades-old pizzeria, this new attraction is guaranteed to bring back your childhood in the worst possible way!”_

She had to wonder where they would be getting those “actual relics” from, though. As far as she knew, Henry had them locked away in a storage unit.

Unless he sold them or gave them away… but why would he do that?

“Okay, so… what’s the problem?”

“They’re creating a horror attraction based on my company—”

“Uh-huh.”

“From urban legends.”

She could already tell where this was going. He couldn’t be any more wrong, but she let him continue, anyway.

“And it’s putting a bad light over Fazbear Entertainment. How am I supposed to expand this business if people are too afraid to go?

“Okay, and… what do you want me to do about that?”

“I want you to close it down.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“This horror attraction is based on urban legends. It’s disrupting business.”

Urban legends…

“Are they urban legends, Mr. McKillop?” She asked, “Have you, perhaps, spoken with the families of those dead children?”

“N-No.”

“How about… the female employee… kidnapped by the suspected murderer fourteen years ago?”

“No.”

Gemma hummed. “Well, lucky you, you’re speaking with her right now.”

His face turned bright red, and he stammered. “I-I… w-well, you must understand, these myths are hurting my business.”

“He held me hostage for six years. Confessed his crimes to me. You sure you want to tell me it’s just a myth?”

He went silent, embarrassment written all over his face. “Apologies.”

“Let’s get this straight—under no circumstances do I blame your business for what happened, but… I certainly can blame you for attempting to sweep it under the rug. After all, all those families… they deserve recompense, don’t you think, Mr. McKillop?”

He swallowed thickly under Gemma’s intense gaze; she tapped her fingers against her desk.

“But, I’ll tell you what… I have my own business with this place, so I’ll do an investigation for you. If I find anything sketchy, we’ll have it shut down… but I can’t make any promises.”

"Yes, of course."

She looked back down at the newspaper on her desk.

_“Help wanted! Call xxx-xxx-xxxx.”_

July was one of the worst months for heat.

She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of one hand, holding her phone in the other.

She wouldn’t need anyone’s help, not with this. Going undercover as an employee? That was her best bet.

She knew Scott would eventually become suspicious, but she would work it out.

Even as the car started to get too warm, Gemma didn’t have any issues breathing in the heat—she still found herself reaching over to turn on the AC. A hot car wasn’t the most comfortable to sit in.

“Hey hey hey! This is Todd Hammond with Thrill Park right here in Hurricane, Utah.”

Geesh… that voice made her cringe.

“Uh… hey, my name is Gemma Evergreen. I saw you were hiring for the new Fazbear’s Fright attraction.”

“Oh! Yeah man, are you interested?”

“Yes, I am, actually.”

“We’re hiring for the night shift right now, and then you will be moved onto the day shift to play as the security guard—”

Holy fuck this was cheesy.

“Yes—yes, that’s fine.”

“Cool, cool. Any previous work experience?”

“Uh—yeah, I used to work at one of the old locations… back in ’87.”

“Woah dude—you said your name was Gemma? Man, you even have the same name as that one chick who was kidnapped from that place. Wicked, man. ’87, you said?”

“Haha, yeah.”

This guy had to be high or something.

“I’d say you’re hired, but I gotta talk with the big man first, you know how it is.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“But hey, I’ll give you a call Sunday afternoon and let you know.”

“That’s perfect, thank you—”

“So you said you worked at the ’87 location, right? We still need some “artifacts” y’know—need it to be authentic, y’know?”

“Well… I didn’t work there, but my husband did—back in ’93. He said there’s an old springlock suit in the back room, if you’re interested in that.”

“Awe, shit dude, that’s perfect. I’ll let my boss know, and hey, I’ll even put in a good word for you. You’re sure to get the job.”

“Great! Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Not even a real interview. They must be real desperate. Luckily, that just made this whole process a lot easier.

And going under cover was probably one of her favorite parts of this job. Of course, aside from solving abuse and child custody cases.

And even better? William could be there... What were the chances he was possessing that springlock suit, just like those children possessed the suits he killed them in? Oh, the irony.

She felt a newfound sense of accomplishment. She would serve vengeance again, and bring the children their much-needed peace.

. . .

The hour finally arrived. Soon, they would be dropping Charlie off to stay with Sarah and Marcus, but...

Something felt terribly off. It didn't feel right, but Gemma wasn't going to back down on her plans with her husband. 

Charlie's bookbag was packed with only her essentials: a hairbrush, her toothbrush, underwear, a set of night clothes, and an extra outside. And last but not least, her favorite Fredbear plush.

It was only for a night, Gemma had to remind herself.

“Mommy?”

“Hm?”

Gemma fixed Charlie’s bag over her shoulders, and Charlie looked back at her mom with worry etched onto her face.

“Can… can girls like other girls?”

Gemma took pause, resting her hands over her Charlie’s shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“Like… more than a friend?”

It wasn’t a question Gemma had been expecting to hear from her eight-year-old daughter, but the answer seemed obvious.

Gemma wanted to be able to love and support her daughter no matter what, but there was... something 

"I... Don't see why not," Gemma answered, slowly at first. 

No parent could be prepared for the day their child told them they were possible gay, especially not heterosexual parents.

This world wasn't kind to others. 

Maybe if this world was kinder… she wouldn’t have so much to worry about. 

Parents wouldn’t have to worry about the future pain, turmoil, and prejudice that came with being openly anything other than straight.

What would Charlie’s life be like? Would she be accepted, or would her peers look down on her in disgust?

Would she live, or would she be murdered in cold blood?

Would what happened to her also happen to Charlie? Just another victim of abuse?

“Why are you asking?” Gemma decided to ask; she played with Charlie’s hair, pulling her long hair from behind the bookbag over her shoulders. “Do you… like a girl?”

Charlie took a moment, and then nodded her head. "I think so." 

If Charlie were older, perhaps Gemma wouldn’t have to worry about telling her daughter what this world was really like—how evil and cruel it can be, but she was still a child.

It was horrible that this was how it had to be.

“Well… it’s not wrong. You can like whoever you want, but…”

“But what?”

“Wait until you’re older, to really think about it, okay?”

“I’m old enough!”

Gemma chuckled; she brushed the hair on Charlie’s right side behind her ear. “So… who is it?”

Charlie shuffled on her feet and cast her gaze down to the floor, almost in shame.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are… are you sure it’s okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well…” Charlie clamped her mouth shut; she pulled her arms in defensively and kept her head down.

Gemma didn’t like how Charlie was acting. It seemed wrong. Charlie was never this quiet and unsure of herself.

It reminded her of her when she was Charlie’s age.

Gemma knelt down on the floor in front of Charlie, and even then, the young girl refused to look her mom in the eyes.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?”

It was summer, so it wasn’t like Charlie would be hearing anything from her peers unless Gemma was around…

The only people Charlie stayed with were Sarah and Marcus, sometimes Henry, and sometimes she would stay with Scott’s sister and Matthew, but Gemma knew none of them would be putting this much anxiety and uncertainty in her head.

“He… he keeps telling me it’s wrong.”

Gemma’s hands gripped onto Charlie’s arms, her stomach locked up tight in knots, winding tighter and tighter.

And then it crept over her—a chilly air that made her body shiver.

“Who, Charlie?”

She lifted her gaze for a moment, and shook her head.

Gemma already knew the answer, but she needed the confirmation, almost as badly as she needed air to breathe.

“Who is telling you that?”

“U-uhm…”

“Charlie…”

“The—the purple man. He wears the purple shirt, a-and… the yellow bunny costume.”

“The Purple Man, huh?” Quite the name for him.

Charlie nodded her head. “He… he says that he’s my real daddy… that you and daddy just don’t want me to know.”

“What else does he tell you?”

“He says… he says he loves me, and he wants the best for me… and that he loves Mommy, too.”

Gemma had to swallow the lump in her throat.

_You don’t love him anymore._

_You only loved what you thought he was._

_You only loved him because he brainwashed you._

“Don’t listen to him, alright? No matter what he tells you.”

She nodded again.

“It’s never wrong to like anyone, no matter what gender they are. And when you get older, even if you choose to fall in love with another girl, Mommy and Daddy will still be proud of you.”

Charlie smiled.

“And if the Purple Man bothers you again, you tell him to leave you alone, or you know what will happen?”

“What?” Charlie asked quietly.

“Mommy is gonna get him.”

William was not about to shame her daughter over a crush. Gemma would not tolerate it.

Charlie would never feel shame for her choices. Gemma wouldn’t let that happen.

“Mommy, you look mad,” Charlie said, “are you okay?”

Gemma didn’t realize just how tense she was until Charlie mentioned it—she released a breath, and her shoulders relaxed.

“Yeah… yeah, Mommy’s fine. How about we head to Vanny’s now? Daddy is waiting for us downstairs.”

Gemma stood on her feet and watched as Charlie bounded down the stairs to the living room.

A cool breeze brushed by her hand, and Gemma jerked it back, cradling her hand to her chest.

She was going to put an end to William. Then, he wouldn’t bother Charlie anymore.

. . .

_“WINNER: Peppy Hare!”_

_“LOSER: Princess Zelda!”_

“Aww, you beat me again!” Charlie cried; Vanny giggled setting down the Gamecube controller on the floor at her feet.

“One more round! C’mon, it’s fun!”

“Not so much fun for me… you beat me every time.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

Charlie blushed; she crossed her arms over her chest.

She felt a finger poke her reddened cheeks. “You’re cute when your face is all red!”

“Vanny!” Charlie whined, “shut up.”

Vanny’s grin fell. She cocked her head, and her pretty, deep brown hair fell over her face. “You don’t play the game as much as I do… do you want me to show you how to play?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah… but can we get snacks first?”

“Sure! I can go get us some snacks—”

“Can I go with you?”

Vanny shook her head. “No, you’re clumsy and you’ll get us caught.”

“I’m not clumsy!”

Vanny stuck out her tongue. “Lo que sea!”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Whatever! Clumsy. But lucky for us, I’m a master of sneaking!”

“Fine,” Charlie pouted, “I’ll just stay here, then.”

“If I can’t find other snacks, I’ll bring back cold pizza!”

Vanny… had a thing for bunnies.

But after the dreams she’s been having… the ones with the yellow bunny costume, she was coming to like them less and less.

It was dark in Vanny’s bedroom, with only the bright screen from the boxy TV sitting on Vanny’s floor illuminating the room.

She could feel eyes all over her, coming from every direction and making Charlie want to crawl under the covers and hide from then.

She didn’t want to be alone.

_“Charlie…”_

A female’s voice, echoing in the silence of Vanny’s bedroom. Charlie covered her ears, desperate to stop the voices in her head.

 _“So you are Daddy’s favorite now…_ _Daddy’s little girl.”_

_“He sees promise in you…”_

_Go away… go away…_

“L-leave me alone.”

_“You will continue… what he has left unfinished.”_

“Leave me alone.”

_“You will make our Daddy proud, won’t you, little Charlie?”_

And when Charlie looked to her side, towards the giant bunny plushy sitting by Vanny’s bed, she could have sworn she saw it open up its maw, coming to swallow her whole.

. . .

“Do you think Charlie is doing okay?”

“Babe, she’s probably fine,” Scott tried to reassure Gemma, who hadn’t so much as touched her food the whole time they’ve been inside. “Her and Vanny are probably playing video games and she’s having the time of her life right now.”

“I don’t know…” Gemma’s leg shook beneath the Casa Del table; she could feel her anxiety rising, getting worse with each second that passed. “I feel like something is wrong.”

“You’re worrying too much.”

“Maybe you don’t worry enough.”

“If something were wrong, Sarah and Marcus would call us—”

_“Beep beep beep!”_

Gemma instantly reached for her phone in her pocket, leaving Scott watching in utter shock, and mid-bite into his chili burrito.

The name on the screen told her all she needed to know.

“Sarah? Hello?”

“Ge..ma! Char..lie…is.. freaking o..t right n..ow!”

She could hear screaming and crying on the other side—a hysterical Charlie calling out for her—for her mom.

“What’s going on?”

“I—I do…n’t know, she just… he..r a..d Van…ny we..r.e playi… vid..o gam..s… V..nny said she wa..as out ge..ting them leftovers w..en it ..app..ned…”

“Sarah? Sarah, you’re breaking up, I can barely hear you!”

“P…ease c..me get her.”

Gemma closed her phone. “Scott, we’re leaving.”

“What just happened?”

“I guess we’ll find out when we’ll get there, but Charlie is crying hysterically. I guess they can’t get her to calm down if they called us.”

“Fuck.” Scott sighed. “What the fuck is it with you? Do you have a… a sixth sense for this shit?”

Gemma shrugged. “Call it a mother’s intuition.”

. . .

“Marcus, what the hell is going on?”

“Didn’t Sarah tell you?”

“The phone was breaking up,” Gemma explained, “I could barely make out what she said.”

“Charlie and Vanny were playing video games in her room. We don’t know what happened—Vanny wasn’t there when it happened. She said she was getting leftover pizza.”

“Goddammit—Fuck.”

She should have known better. Should have known better than to leave Charlie with them.

The only people she could trust Charlie with was Henry and Scott right now.

“Mommy!”

She could hear Charlie’s screaming loud and clear as she reached the top of the staircase, and Marcus led her and Scott towards Vanny’s room. On the floor, Sarah held Charlie in her arms, thrashing wildly and crying, hitting and pushing against Sarah’s chest in a desperate attempt to escape.

“Charlie, Charlie, your mom is here—” Sarah tried to soothe her; Gemma sank to the floor. Gemma reached out to take Charlie into her arms, even as Charlie screamed, cried, and fought her too, as if she didn’t even know who she was.

Her eyes were screwed shut, shaking her head and pushing away, but Gemma held her tighter. “Leave me alone!”

“Charlie,” Gemma said softly. Charlie’s screaming died down, leaving her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths and tears staining her red cheeks. “Mommy’s here.”

The room fell silent, save for the sound of Charlie’s tears and her heavy breathing.

Charlie fisted Gemma’s shirt in her hands. “Mommy…”

“That’s right, I’m right here.” Gemma pet her daughter’s dark hair, “Everything is okay.”

Charlie laid her head against Gemma’s chest; her little body shook and trembled with fear.

“Please don’t leave me again.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw/Cw: mentions of rape, abuse, manipulation, and mild homophobia, etc  
> NSFW. Mildly sexual content. Getting pretty steamy in here.
> 
> This is truly 100% unbetaed from here on out. If you find mistakes please let me know  
> Comments are appreciated.

The clock at her bedside told her it was half past midnight.

Scott has been on the phone for well over an hour. If she listened close enough, she could hear Scott talking downstairs—supposedly with Henry, about what just happened with Charlie that night.

Charlie didn’t want to talk about it after they got her calmed down, but she didn’t want to be alone, either. She held onto Gemma tight when she held her, begged not to be left alone.

“They won’t go away,” she had said, shaking and crying into Gemma’s chest. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

Frankly, Gemma didn’t feel safe leaving Charlie alone, either.

She hoped now, Scott realized it was worse than he originally thought. Scott was always the optimistic one who tended to ease Gemma’s far more pessimistic mind. He was the one who told her it was all going to be okay, to help calm her down.

But there were times where, in her heart, she knew it wasn’t going to be okay. This was one of those times.

They didn’t have time to wait, for Charlie’s sake, if nothing else.

“Mom…” Charlie laid her arm across Gemma’s lap and Gemma played with her daughter’s hair, nimble fingers threading through silky, black strands. Charlie looked exhausted, as if she hadn’t just been asleep for almost two hours, but Gemma couldn’t blame her.

“He’s not bothering you again, is he?” Gemma wished she could tell if he was around or not. His presence had always been an overpowering one, but now, there was nothing.

He would make himself known to her when and if he wanted too.

Charlie groggily shook her head. “No. It was…” Charlie turned over onto her other side, stretching her arm across the bed until it fell off the side of the bed. “Cassidy,” she whispered, and she was out like a light before Gemma could question her further.

Gemma was a bit jealous, actually. Cassidy never came to visit her.

But on the other hand, she knew why Cassidy was showing himself to her. Or at least, what she believed. She believed he came with a warning now that William was back and showing himself.

“Hey, babe,” Scott greeted her in the doorway. He dropped his phone onto the side table and sank onto the bed on the other side of Gemma. “I just got done talking with… Henry.”

“What did you talk with him about?”

“About Charlie, and… and William,” He responded almost reluctantly, shoulders drooping and running his hand through his hair. “Henry wants to watch over Charlie for a bit. Just for a few days.”

“I thought he was busy? Y’know, with… Lefty.”

Scott paused. He glanced off to the side until his weary eyes landed on a portrait of the two of them—their wedding photo—and he wrung his hands together. “Nathan and I can work on it. It’s almost done, I think… it just needs a few… adjustments. Henry’s got the time.”

As hesitant as Gemma was, she supposed this was also the best for everyone. She was positive she would be getting a call tomorrow about the night watch job she called about. She found it odd they weren’t conducting interviews, but she wouldn’t complain about it.

Scott was out late most nights, and with her on night watch, that meant Charlie would have been home alone at night. She wasn’t yet sure how she would hide this from Scott, though. She would come up with something.

“If he’s sure.”

“Yeah, uh… I’ll take her tomorrow morning, before work. Now, it’s late. You should get some sleep, too—”

“Actually,” Gemma interrupted him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back onto the bed. “I’ll go sleep on the couch tonight. You stay here with Charlie.”

“No, Gemma, it’s fine—”

“Scott, please,” she said firmly, “I just… I just need to think for a bit. On my own.”

Scott didn’t look very convinced, but he sighed, nodding his head. “Yeah, okay. Just… come wake me if anything happens, okay? Or if you get scared—”

“I’ll be fine.” Charlie didn’t stir as Gemma stood and Scott took her place on the bed.

Years ago, Gemma never thought she would see the day she could truly trust a man other than Henry. She never thought she could truly trust a man with her daughter, nonetheless, if she ever were to have one.

Gemma trusted Scott wholeheartedly.

“I love you, Gemma.”

Gemma smiled softly. “I love you, too.”

Gemma wrapped the unicorn-printed blanket over her shoulders as she descended the stairs; the low-light from the table lamp by the living room cough helped to guide her way down the stairs.

It was quiet—enough she could hear the low buzzing of the light when she neared it. She pulled her feet up onto the couch, and Gemma could barely see her reflection in the black screen of the boxy TV. Sometimes, she could hear the house creaking in the silence, a sound that could easily be mistaken for footsteps.

Suddenly, it turned cold. Goosebumps rose up her arms, and her bare toes felt like icicles. She tugged the warm comforter closer. If Kujo were still alive, he’d warm up her feet for her at the foot of the couch like he used to do. Back then, she kept the thermostat low, even during the winter, because she couldn’t pay the bill to keep it warm.

It was never so cold in the house. It got cool sometimes, but never frigid, as they preferred it warm.

But she also recognized it as a sign that something—or someone—was close by.

“William, I know you’re here,” Gemma said, breaking the silence.

Silence, save for the clock ticking high on the wall. Gemma sighed, leaning her head onto her knees.

This was stupid.

The last time they “talked” it ended in a fight. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was upset with her. William was always the type to hold grudges. But she was mature enough now to realize it wasn’t her fault. At least, not entirely. He shouldn’t have put his hands on her, regardless of how she egged him on.

Why was he even here? Gemma didn’t want him around, and neither did Charlie. She may have been interested at first, but now she was just terrified of him. She wouldn’t say what he did or said, aside from him being clearly upset over a crush.

Was he doing it for amusement? Did he seek to gain something? Did he love Charlie at all?

She wasn’t even sure if William was capable of loving anyone, although it hurt to think that. It hurt to think that he never loved her.

It hurt because she still loved him, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. In spite of everything, she couldn’t bring herself to stop loving him.

She only loved what he pretended to be. She only loved the good memories.

At the same time, she hated him. She hated who he really was and what he did. She hated that he felt entitled to a relationship with her daughter in any capacity when he had no place. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was just being spiteful.

She wished she could talk to him. She wished she could know why he did the things he did, and why he does what he does even in death.

She was beginning to grow tired. It hadn’t been very long she sat there, resting against her knees with her eyes closed, and Charlie’s warm comforter wrapped around her body (it wasn’t like Charlie was using it, anyway. She would give it back tomorrow).

Then, the faintest scent of a cigarette.

The smell of a cigarette used to be an offensive smell. It physically hurt to smell, especially as a kid when her throat would swell and she would wheeze and cough whenever her father pulled out a cigarette. He wasn’t supposed to smoke inside because it always caused such severe reactions, but he never stopped. He just never really cared.

While she had grown out of that at some point, there were times where the smell or the smoke would catch her off guard. It caused a slight coughing fit, but nothing as bad as she experienced in her childhood.

As an adult—a married woman with a child no less—Gemma was a light smoker.

She really missed William for a while, all through the remainder of her pregnancy with Charlie, and for the first year or so afterwards. Eventually, she found herself picking up a pack of cigarettes, the same brand he smoked, and the brand her father smoked before him. It reminded her of him, and smelled like him.

“I thought you would miss me, eventually. I quite miss our time together. Don’t you?”

Gemma couldn’t move fast enough; she lifted her head like the shot of a bullet to see him sitting there next to her, arm draped over and his cold, dead, eyes looking into hers. It made her spine shiver. Her mouth felt thick and dry.

He was there, in the flesh, real and physical, sitting on her living room couch like she could reach over to touch him.

 _Yes_. “No—"

“That’s too bad.”

“Can you not right now?”

William huffed in response.

“I just… can we talk…?”

“And why should I indulge you? After all, you betrayed me, your dear husband.”

“ _Late_ husband, mind you. But… You don’t have anything to lose.”

“I suppose not. I am dead, after all, no thanks to you.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, but William watched her with a hardened, firm gaze. It felt… odd. Sitting next to him like this, as if they were back to living their normal lives together again, miles away in Colorado.

But uncomfortable was the least of her worries. She’s been through worse—sat through worse. She could make it through this.

“First, I guess… why did you come back?”

“I wanted to see my wife, and meet my daughter, of course. It doesn’t hurt for her to know who her real father is.”

 _Not yours_ , she wanted to say, but after how that conversation ended last time, she wasn’t going to put in the effort.

“She doesn’t need to be dragged into this. You’re doing more harm than good—”

“I gave her a little scare once to mess with you. She’s perfectly fine.”

“She’s not fine,” Gemma bit back, “She’s terrified of you. She wants nothing to do with you. She’s afraid to be alone just in the hopes that you don’t bother her again.”

William fell silent, and although his gaze remained empty, she could tell he was really considering what she said, for once.

“She’s a child. I had to go pick her up from her friend’s house tonight after what you did. Do you like seeing her like that?”

And then his eyes narrowed, and he looked back at her with evident confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“She told me you were upset because she was thinking she had a crush on another girl. And then she goes to a friend’s house—a girl, might I add—and everything goes to shit.”

“Of course I’m upset about that. It’s abhorrent, and she’s too young to be thinking about that.”

“She is going through puberty, William.”

“She’s eight.”

“I developed early, too! Her hormones are going crazy right now, it’s not strange, but that isn’t the point.”

“I’m not terrorizing my daughter, Gemma. I would never do that to her.”

“How do I know that?”

“The last thing I ever wanted was for her to hate me,” he said, “I’m not a good person. I’ve done terrible things. I don’t regret those things that I’ve done, but I _wanted_ to do right by her. I wanted her to look up to me, admire me, not hate me.”

If it wasn’t William, how was Gemma supposed to help her? This meant there was something else harming her that Charlie wasn’t telling her about. And it didn’t seem like William knew, either.

She would ask Charlie about it later.

“Can I… ask you something else, then?”

“What is it?”

Gemma shuffled on the couch, shifting her body to face him. “I think I just want to know… why me?”

“Care to elaborate, love?”

“Why. Me?” She asked in frustration. “I mean, me, a vulnerable teenage girl—"

“It’s precisely because you were a teenage girl that I did the things that I did with you.”

Disgust twisted in her stomach. “I don’t think I understand.”

“That isn’t to say I have an interest in teenage girls. In fact, I’ve never been interested in women much younger than I, but I had to make an exception—”

“I don’t think that’s much better.”

“I had to make an exception because I needed someone gullible. Easy to manipulate. Easy to put in your place. You won’t find many women my age stupid enough.”

He continued, “The original plan was, regrettably, a bit long and complicated, in retrospect. I decided I would take it at my own pace and wait for the right moment. But after Scott came around, I knew I had to do something… But then, you had to go and fuck him, a man you hardly knew—"

“How do you know about that?”

William grinned. “You don’t think I did what I did for no reason, do you? That Fredbear plush I gave you for your birthday… quite the nifty little thing it was.”

“You were spying on me?”

“More or less.”

She wanted to voice her disgust with him, tell him how fucking gross he was, but she kept her mouth shut.

She was glad Scott tossed it out when he did. She originally wanted to keep it, but he had tossed it and the Spring Bonnie plus in the garbage before she could even get around to packing them away. She was mad at first. Maybe he found the camera and didn’t tell her.

“Anything else?”

William grunted. “Quite the curious one, aren’t you?”

“Did… did you ever actually love me? Did you ever feel _anything_ for me?”

William’s lips pulled into a triumphant smirk, only for half a second before it fell into a frown again. “Of course I did. Not at the start. I wanted to act like I did, just… out of curiosity. You were a bit young and chubby for my liking.

When I brought you into my home, I knew I had to make you reliant on me, and that was the first step to making you love me. But I also had to make you afraid of me.

But I wanted to do things differently this time. Everything I knew to do, I knew from my past relationship with my late wife, Evelyn. We were high school sweethearts, just as stupid, just as gullible, and just as broken as you. She came from a poor, abusive home, and so it wasn’t hard to impress her. My family had money, although I didn’t come from a loving home, either. I used her the same way, the same reason I used you.

After Evelyn hanged herself, I wanted a do-over, but I knew I had to do something differently, I just didn’t know what that thing was. It was frustrating, especially since Henry’s family was so happy. They loved him. They practically worshipped him. I wanted that.”

“Is… is that why you killed Charlie?”

“It wasn’t my proudest moment, but yes. It was in a fit of jealous rage. I wanted what he had. So much, I lost sight of what I already had. With you, I knew I had to do things differently. I had to take care of you, cater to you. Eventually, you would do things for me. The more I did for you, the more you did for me. The more I took care of you, the more you began to question yourself. The longer I stayed out of the house, the more excited you would be when I got back.

It did hurt a little when you killed yourself. Hurt more than my first wife, really.”

“Wait—” Killed herself? She knew she tried, but he never told her she _did_. “Killed myself?”

“You died, love. I had to… bring you back. It was a blessing in disguise, really, as I’ve said before. I could change things. Make you believe you loved me from the start. Sometimes, you would remember. Remember things you shouldn’t have remembered. One memory would trigger the rest. Sometimes, a sound, a smell, or an action would trigger your memory. Even a name, on a few occasions.

I will admit that, in a way, I fooled myself. I’ve never had anyone who genuinely loved me in my life. You loved me because I made you that way, and yet I fell for it. I loved you in the way I knew love to be. I loved to see you smile every evening when I got home. I loved hearing you tell me you loved me. But I loved you **because** you loved me. I loved you because you could provide for me a better family than I had before, and you could raise our children to love me.”

I did want a family with you. I desperately wanted what Henry had, and I still do, more than anything else. I wanted an heir, too—that is, someone to take over my business and my research after I was gone. I didn’t want it to be wasted. You could have given me all of that and more, but…”

It made her wonder. If William had people around who loved him—genuinely loved him—would he have turned out differently?

“It didn’t turn out that way,” He sighed,

She supposed now his motives made more sense. It almost made her feel bad for him, but…she had to remember, he was still dangerous and unpredictable, even in death.

William leaned forward, cupping her cheek in the oddly warm palm of his hand. “I still love you,” he said softly, just above a whisper. “And you still love me, don’t you?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She so badly wanted to say no. She didn’t want to love him anymore, so why did she also want to say yes?

“I—”

His chapped lips landed on hers, cool to the touch, but it everything she remembered it to be. It was slow and passionate, but she could also sense the intentions hidden behind it—the intent to manipulate, to reel her in and have her sitting in the palm of his hands. She wasn’t new to his depravity. She knew how this song and dance goes. She lived it.

And she melted into him almost instantly as his hand wandered from her face, down her chest and down the sides of her breasts to settle at the curve of her waist. 

“William—” she spoke his name between his persistent kisses, “I can’t—” She put a firm hand against his chest, separating them. “If you still have any love for me, if you love Charlie at all… you have to leave us be. She can’t live like this. I can’t live like this.”

William’s fingers twitched against the curve of her waist.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, “I still have things that need to be done.”

He kissed her again; it was dominating, demanding, but also gentle and comforting in a way that he understood words wouldn’t be.

“W-what… do you mean?”

“Shh.”

He delved into the crook of her neck. The first breath of warm air against her neck, followed by his cool lips made her body shiver with anticipation. He pushed forward, lowering her back onto the couch as his lips latched onto the front of her throat. She gasped.

“All that talk about how you didn’t love me anymore,” he teased, “but look at you. You’re desperate and touch starved, aren’t you? Well, I can fix that.”

She shouldn’t be doing this. She should be telling him no and trying to fight it. She had a loving husband just upstairs with their daughter.

But she couldn’t; every kiss against her throat and every caress of his hands sent her mind spiraling.

Her pants came off, along with her underwear underneath and William knelt his head between her legs. She arched her back, grasping at his hair and the blanket under her head. She couldn’t think, the only words consuming her mind were _more, more, more._ She couldn’t speak—only in breathy pants of his name and desperate whimpers—

_“Beep beep beep!” “Beep beep beep!”_

Gemma woke with a gasp of air; it was daytime, the sun shining through the sheer, living room curtains, and burning her morning, light-sensitive eyes.

When did she even fall asleep last night? That was all a dream?

A dream or not, she still was letting William have his way with her. It made guilt set heavy in her heart. What would Scott think?

No, he wasn’t going to know. Just like he wasn’t going to know about anything else.

_“Beep beep beep!”_

Ah, fuck, she almost forgot about her phone.

She leaned over the couch and grabbed her phone. She didn’t pay attention to the number, too groggy from having just been rudely awakened from her sleep.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Gemma?”

She didn’t recognize the voice; it sounded close to Henry’s, but lighter and a little higher in pitch, whereas Henry’s voice was deep, a bit brooding, and he was much more soft spoken.

“Uhm, y-yes, this is she.”

“I’m the park manager and owner. An employee here at the amusement park gave me this number, I hope you aren’t busy right now.”

“Oh! No, not at all.”

“Wonderful. I’d like to have a talk with you today, if that’s okay with you. Here, of course. Just before you start tomorrow night.”

That meant she had to be getting ready soon. “Yes, of course. I’ll be on my way soon. Uhm, can I have a name?”

“The names Arthur,” he said, “Arthur Emily.”

. . .

 **What the fuck**.

The name Emily wasn’t a common one, and even less common in her hometown of Hurricane. She knew Henry had a brother—and a sister out there somewhere—but she never met them, or even learned their names.

Were Henry and Scott working behind her back, too? This Arthur was supposedly the guy who owned and ran the amusement park. Was Henry ‘donating’ things to the park for a purpose? Lying to her and purposely not telling her?

She didn’t doubt it, at this point. He and Scott have been adamant on her staying out of it.

What if, this whole time, they’ve just been working on this? They told her Lefty wasn’t finished, but was that even true?

The more she thought about it, the angrier and more frustrated she got.

No, she shouldn’t be coming to conclusions yet. It may just be a coincidence, after all. No need to jump the gun and make assumptions.

The amusement park wasn’t very lively, seeing as it was closed on Sundays, anyways. A metal gate blocked her entrance, with a paper sign reading: “Come check out our newest attraction, Fazbear’s Fright! Open Monday, August 8.” Now all she had to do was wait for him to come open the gate.

Luckily, the park wasn’t a big one, and so it wasn’t like she had to look very hard to find this new attraction in the first place. It was newly built, like a down-scaled replica of the diner that William died in. They seemed to take some creative liberties with it, though, with fog machines in the front and a wide, metal escape room-esque door as the front entrance.

A man exited the building, a taller man with brown, greying hair and a light, reddish stubble. He was a bit on the chubbier side, and she likely would have mistaken him for Henry if Henry wasn’t a bit stockier with a bigger, fuller beard. 

“Hey there,” he greeted her—his grin was unbelievably white, likely from bleaching, but it was friendly, and welcoming. “Arthur. You’re Gemma, right?”

“Gemma, actually—you know, a hard G. Like… gum or goat.”

“Really? Sorry, I thought it was usually pronounced like Jenna.” He spoke as he unlocked the gate, and she nodded her head. “My mistake.”

“Yeah, no. I get it a lot.”

“So, “Gemma”, we originally weren’t taking calls for the job, you know? But, uh, I assume you’re the one my brother Henry told me about?”

Well, that settles that.

Gemma slowly nodded her head. “Uh, yeah, I am.”

“I’m not entirely sure what he has planned but… I stopped asking questions years ago. I’m sure you know more about it than I do.”

He continued, “Anyways, my employee told me about the springlock suit in the safe room. Henry, of course, already let me in on it. I’ll be picking him up tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, we’ll be getting others from Henry’s storage unit throughout the week.

This week you will be working nightshift at the attraction. It’s not completely finished—there’s some faulty wiring and some issues with ventilation that you will need to keep an eye on through the week until we can get it fixed. After this week, we will move you onto dayshift to play the infamous security guard.” 

The more he spoke, the more she could feel the anger bubbling. She could feel it in the way her jaw clenched and the way her stomach twisted, but she smiled and nodded, as all she could do was pretend she wasn’t boiling over and seething with rage.

They both knew how important this was to her. And yet, they decided to hide it from her.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Come, I’ll give you a tour, but uh, watch your step.”

“Yessir.”

There was no hiding it anymore. Scott was going to hear it from her. He was going to answer to her one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott deserves better tbh
> 
> Also look at my one-shot book here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928934/chapters/65718667   
> It includes parts forgotten, parts I didn't feel were relevant enough to include, and other fun subplots and AUs


End file.
